


Juncture

by eccentrick



Series: Like Color, Like Sound [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma is trying to forget his and Kuroo's fall out (if you could even call it that) had ever happened, but the reasoning behind the end of their friendship is still a puzzle he can't seem to solve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juncture

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back~. So, this is longer than expected, and there should be another one shot after this to wrap it all up, in Kuroo's POV. Also, I'm American, and I have no clue how college, uni, whatever you wanna call it works in Japan, so I thought instead of it being half assed I could just be as vague as possible. So please have that in mind!
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta, Jazz, for giving me pointers and making this fic better!

To say Kenma was nervous about the move would be an understatement. His hair, shorter than before and freshly dyed, still blocked his peripheral vision the way he liked it, so he didn't have to see people eyeing the new first year drudging to the dorms with a only a backpack to his name.

It was loud; the sounds were like a collage of rainbow colors, also including shades of brown and black and gray, dreary to others, but easy on Kenma's headache. He had to stop himself from listening for a certain shadow, cursing himself for his weakness all the way to his assigned room.

When he got to the 17 by 12 room that would be his sanctuary, the walls plain white and the carpet a shaggy brown, Kenma saw he was the first one there. The blond flopped onto the bed towards the left, turning on his PSP, silencing it before he began playing.

When his roommate finally arrived, they came in silently, Kenma not even noticing them. It was a good sign, he thought, before he looked up and saw who it was.

"Akaashi." He deadpanned.

"Kozume-san." Came the reply, tone as flat as his.

Kenma shifted at the formal greeting, not entirely sure that he would like this arrangement. Akaashi would be respectful and quiet, he knew, but it was his company the former setter was worried about. Akaashi had obviously come here due to the good education, but Kenma wasn't stupid enough to believe that was the only reason he chose this particular arrangement.

He wanted to say something, but he wasn't exactly keen on starting any bad blood if it was taken the wrong way, not even being the first official day of the first semester. Thus, both Kenma and Akaashi ignored one another, a stiff but comfortable silence enveloping them.

It wasn't Akaashi that made him worry; Akaashi had a nice violet voice, and they often bonded over having to deal with the obvious stupid shenanigans of Kuroo and Bokuto. They had an understanding, as two introverts, to not pry nor poke at each other.  
__________

The semester was starting out much better than anticipated for Kenma. His classes were manageable at the moment with little extra effort, Akaashi had become his constant silent companion, and he hadn't seen any trace of his aforementioned problem. Maybe Kuroo knew he was here, and avoided him out of common courtesy, or maybe he didn't want to see Kenma. Either way, Kenma was glad.

He did see Bokuto around often, which he expected when living with Akaashi, but Bokuto had yet to see him.

It was sort of amusing to see Bokuto's eyes widen when he caught sight of Kenma hunched on the bed opposite of his boyfriend, the blonde giving a brief nod of acknowledgement before going back to his game. Bokuto just gaped unintelligibly. Akaashi, noticing his stares, glanced at his significant other before sighing.

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi said, voice going from purple to mauve.

Startled, Bokuto jumped to attention. "Uh, Akaashi!" He side eyed Kenma, "Kenmaaa, didn't expect to see you here!"

"Bokuto-san, I've told you how many times that Kozume-san is my roommate?" The pleasant mauve lightened and transformed to an annoyed beige.

"Wah, I didn't think you were serious! You have a sick sense of humor sometimes, Keiji, so I thought for sure you were just trying to subtly burn K-"

"You know nothing of being subtle, Bokuto." And, the mauve color came back with a nauseating force.

Kenma felt a sharp twinge in his chest, out of place in the atmosphere. It might not sound like it to an outsider, but being as observant as the blond was, he knew that they weren't really arguing like a normal couple; it was almost like Akaashi and Bokuto were flirting in their own way. Kenma's nose scrunched at the thought of what their foreplay must be like.

"Aaahhh, Kenma, why are you giving me that face?!" Bokuto whined.

"Because you two are gross. Get a room."

The awkward pause was punctuated by the insistent clicking of his console keys, Akaashi already going into full body blush.

The second year did his weird eyebrow thing, a lopsided grin conquering much of his face.

"Now now, we would if the stupid dorms didn't put two in a room, and I don't have enough money for my own apartment yet. If Kuroo was still my roommate it would be all cool, but-"

"Bokuto-san."

The interruption was too late. Kenma physically flinched and stiffened at the name. So, maybe that was why Kuroo had not been around? If Kuroo wasn't bunking with Bokuto, which was pretty surprising since the second years get a good pick of the rooms, who was he rooming with?

Bokuto caught his mistake, hurriedly tacking on, "Haha, well, my new roommate isn't too bad, he just has weird teeth and cries a lot."

In retrospect, Kenma shouldn't be so sensitive to his former best friend's name, but he was the weak kind of person, who latches on to a select few people, never seeming to let go even with the impending dissolve of their bonds. It wasn't even impending anymore! It had long been severed!

Kenma shoved his emotions down, just wanting to be left alone. Akaashi seemed to realize that, ushering Bokuto to his desk, looking almost like he was scolding the buff male. He probably was. (Or maybe this was their weird foreplay he predicted, in other words, he didn't want to know).

He put all of his attention and effort into beating the mini boss in his game, posture even more hunched than before. But that was the only sign of his hurt, he made sure of it. Still, the walls seemed too close together, and his lungs craved anything but the stuffy air within the small room.

Getting up and digging in his pockets for change, he looked at the wall left of Akaashi's head.

"I'm going out for a bit. Put a sock on the door before you do anything." And the door was shut before Akaashi could inquire about his sudden mood change.

The halls seemed to be a maze in Kenma's blurry mind, but his feet still took him to the familiar vending machine. Inside held all the junk food his body ran on, which probably explained why he felt heavy all the time, but he was alive and he didn't particularly care about his health.

He didn't see the "Out of Order" sign until he had counted out the change, and he grimaced at the wasted effort before he once again went on search for the closest vending machine.

He wandered into an unfamiliar section of the dormitory, it unsurprisingly empty since most of the students were in class when Kenma finally went to bed, which was pretty late into the night (or more like morning). Still, the halls were darkened, casting shadows. After some aimless wondering, Kenma saw the tall etching glow of the vending machine light on the floor, a happy path for the blond.

Turning the corner, he stopped short.

"Hey, help!" The person, who apparently had their arm stuck up Kenma's Savior Vending Machine, called when they saw the disgruntled blond turn around and begin to walk away.

Kenma stopped just short of turning back 'round the corner, and glanced at the desperate idiot who thought it was a good idea to stick their *whole arm* up a vending machine. He guessed this one was out of order as well. 

"...Kenma?!"

He forgot to breathe, he forgot to breathe, his heart beating the oxygen from his lungs. There was no way that this _moron_  was who he thought he was. He contemplated for a beat. Well, maybe. Voices don't lie. Kenma must have not caught it before because of the panic bleeding out the black into a pale gray.

"Kuroo." He almost let out the name in the form of a relieved sigh, before he caught himself.

It was strange, that he couldn't hear the color of his own voice, never could, because he was sure it would be a motley of warm and cool colors. He couldn't decipher what he felt at the moment; whether he was happy to see Kuroo, or if he was more content to see his old best friend in this humiliating situation.

"You know, more people die on average by vending machine accidents than shark attacks?"

Even with the shadows projected on Kuroo's face, his messy hair covering half his expression, Kenma could still discern his deep grimace.

Kuroo said, in a strained shout, "Okay, that was fair, but please just help me out here?!"

"I wonder if I'd have to call for a firefighter to come cut you out, and if you'd keep your arm. I guess it matters how long you've been like this with the lack of blood flow."

"Kenma!" Kuroo huffed.

They had a sort of stare off, Kuroo looking entirely unhappy. Well, Kenma wasn't particularly joyous about this either. The first time seeing his ex best friend in about a year and said ex best friend has his arm stuck up a vending machine. This was something he would've expected from Shouyou and his Not-Quite-Yet-Boyfriend intense setter, not Kenma's College-Cram-School ex best friend. All he wanted was his snacks, and the feeling back in his hands.

"Fine, fine." Kenma muttered, trying to think of a course of action to take. He took a shuddering breath.

Poor, poor Kuroo had his arm well up there, and he could tell from the swelling and redness that he must have been pulling, trying to force it out. _Stupid_ , Kenma wanted to say. For someone so smart, you sure are _stupid_ , he wanted to comment, but decided the silent treatment might be a better bet.

Kenma gingerly touched the swollen skin, pressing down. Kuroo hissed and tried to draw back.

"Ouch, the fuck. What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to see if I can fit my finger in there, between your arm and the vending machine, so stay still." He threw back with an extra dose of venom. He could almost feel Yaku praising him.

His finger met with resistance, and he knew this wasn't going to be easy. The blond almost went to call for help, but he wasn't cruel enough to humiliate Kuroo that much unless he absolutely had too. He wasn't kidding when he mentioned it wasn't good for his arm, this was practically a tourniquet.

Kuroo sighed again, pressing his forehead up against the glass. "Can you get my phone, since it doesn't appear I'll be going anywhere for a while? It's in one of my jacket pockets."

Kenma did not, in fact, find Kuroo's phone in his coat pockets. Either of them. Getting annoyed, he just shoved his hand down Kuroo's back pocket, finding the device there. When he handed it over to Kuroo, he could see the acute embarrassment on Kuroo's face. Along with the phone, a package of lube made its appearance.

Kenma hit the back of Kuroo's head. "Why didn't you tell me about this, Kuroo?" He mumbled. "This would've been helpful."

"Well, here's this emotion, called embarrassment-"

"Don't be a smartass."

The raven-haired male rubbed his free hand over his bed head, looking even more exhausted, red spreading ear to ear. It was nice that Kenma wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable, and even though it wasn't a foreign feeling, it was unfamiliar to experience it in Kuroo's presence.

Kenma made an effort to not dwell on the tight feeling in his chest and examined the lube. It was a pretty small package, small enough it might not even be enough to get the messy idiot out of his _trying_  situation. He narrowed his eyes, looking at Kuroo's appearance again. Messy hair (more than usual), inside out shirt, and flushed skin (though that was probably due to his current state). It was apparent that he has come from a -- what did he and Bokuto like to call it? -- a booty call?

He winced, his ears beginning to warm, though it was still a mystery to him whether it was reddened from hurt or anger. Obviously, with how attractive Kuroo was, and how he was away at uni, he would be in _relationships_. Kenma just wasn't prepared for it to be in his face this quickly after their "reunion". He didn't even have enough time or privacy to sort out his reactions towards it.

"You okay?"

Kenma flinched, pursed his lips. "I'm thinking."

Kuroo scoffed, caramel in color, and avoided looking directly at Kenma's face. Kenma fought rolling his eyes, getting back to work and ignoring Kuroo altogether, only tending to his arm, like the rest of him didn't exist. The package of lube was hard to open (why, Kenma wanted to ask? Shouldn't it be easy access?) but he managed, splaying a good amount onto his fingers. Kuroo gulped.

He didn't bother to warm it, immediately getting to work massaging it into Kuroo's warm skin, not acknowledging the shiver it invoked.

"You're into the tingling kind, huh?" Kenma asked in a rhetorical tone, his passive aggressive side emerging. He was not sure what to do with this pent up anger, but he still felt the need to help Kuroo. Another part of him, though, just wanted to exit the situation and call Bokuto to deal with his "bro". Mentally crossing out the latter, he just pressed his tingling fingers down harder onto Kuroo's skin.

"Kenma..."

"What, too much communication for you?"

A flash of hurt crossed Kuroo's face that was now towards Kenma (why? What gave him the right to be upset? Kenma had only asked a legitimate question based on Kuroo's past actions), but the blond just continued to work and get the taller male's arm out, rougher this time. He could feel it start to give, but the frame started to groan a bit.

"I completely deserved that-"

"Yes, you did."

"But can we wait until I have my arm free before we talk?"

Kenma tugged sharply on Kuroo's limb. "Oh, so I'm permitted to speak to you now?" 

Kuroo lifted his other arm in exasperation. "See! That's what I mean! Can't this wa-"

Kenma had jerked Kuroo's arm back and downwards, pulling him free at last. The messy haired male let out what could only be classified as a yowl, falling back on the ground with Kenma on top of him in a heap. The vending machine rocked back and forth before tipping forwards completely.

Kenma gasped, eyes widening at the impending impact of the machine. He could already see it, College Student Killed by School Vending Machine; he couldn't believe that his favorite snacks were going to kill him.

The last second, Kuroo grabbed him with his left arm, his right awkwardly holding his weight, shifting them out of the way. The impact blew Kenma's hair out of his eyes, his toes barely safely, out from under the hunk of metal before they were crushed. 

They laid there, Kenma in Kuroo's lap. Junk food littered the hall, which was almost completely dark now that the light had gone out.

"Well, that could've gone worse."

This time it was Kenma who scoffed, brushing off his clothes as he stood, eyes glued to the floor and not going anywhere near Kuroo's.

"What are we supposed to do about the broken vending machine?"

Kuroo shrugged. "Let's leave it before we're found, I don't have the money to pay for it. And, no, don't take any of the snacks Kenma."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"... I wasn't."

"Were."

Kenma tried not to let himself be caught in the lull of this comfort, not let himself be enveloped in the old normal. It was all too easy.

He could see Kuroo's head turn towards him, but he couldn't tell in this darkness whether Kuroo was looking right at the former setter. Kenma felt eyes on him, but he wasn't sure if it was his imagination or worse -- his wishful thinking.

The blond heard a sigh. "Kenma, why don't we... talk a bit?"

Kenma became smaller then. "Why should we?"

"Because I have to say something."  
_____________

Kenma didn't protest, but he knew he should. He just let Kuroo lead him, his big hand around the blond's wrist, not too close to his hand. Kuroo's other arm was up against his chest like he had an invisible sling on.

His mind itched to concentrate on something besides his current situation, his fingers twitching for the distraction he would get if he had his game with him. But, still they walked, Kenma blindly following behind Kuroo like a little duckling, too attached to let go.

He felt pathetic, yes, but it was a normal feeling for him. He counted the beats between Kuroo's strides, trying to get his breath even and his mask on straight before he had to face his old best friend head on and be expected to talk, to be * _honest_ * for once. He had always been accustomed to Kuroo just knowing his aloof comments were half truths.

 _Well, that was you in high school_ , Kenma reminded himself, _you're different now, and Kuroo should know it, since he was the one who was the driving force that caused it_.

He still had the same insecurities, the same negative thoughts, and the same troubling lack of interest in most everything; but by now, Kenma had learned to speak up when necessary, to put out there what he needed to be put out there, in the open even where people could eat him alive. Kenma was more social now (in moderation), thanks to Shouyou and the others on the Nekoma team. (He needed to go see one of their games since his kouhai looked up to him for some reason). He was different, but still fundamentally the same.

And most of all, he was still fragile. Still weak. Kenma wanted to ignore what had happened in the past if Kuroo would let him back in. But it wouldn't be the same, Kenma could no longer trust the Kuroo, and trust is what cultivated their relationship to its peak. He thought maybe everything had to be reaped sooner or later...  and it would not always be a bountiful harvest. 

The beats quit when Kuroo stopped suddenly. He was in one of the nicer dorms, the carpet softer and more plush than any he had seen here. There was still two twin beds, both mostly tidy, and the floor plan was about the same as his and Akaashi's, only larger with a small kitchenette.

_Bokuto doesn't have one of those, he would have bragged about it if he did._

"Bokuto wanted one closer to Akaashi. Mine is farther from class too, so they compensated with extra appliances."

He jumped, noting he must have mumbled his observation. Kuroo's voice was higher pitched, the night sky fading into day. Only, Kenma didn't hear much hope within it's depths.

"What did you want to talk about." It didn't come out a question, his voice too blunt and apathetic. Aloof. Almost like it was rhetorical, something that he realistically knew wasn't going to be answered.

"Straight to the chase, huh? Well, I guess you've always been like that. And here I planned to make some tea."

"Kuroo."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, you got me. I'm just trying to stall. Man, I haven't felt this nervous in years."

"You sound like an old man. What's next, you going to complain about your weak bones?"

Pride blossomed somewhere within the depths of his chest at the solid faux comment; his breathing uneven and his hands still tingled, and he was pretty certain it wasn't due to the leftover lube.

"Now you sound just like Yaku." Kuroo proclaimed as he laughed a little, only to stop and look away when he saw Kenma's blank face.

"I haven't gotten that face for a while."

"Maybe because you never gave me the chance." Kenma deadpanned, or at least he had tried to, the quiver bulldozed some of his momentary confidence.

Kuroo looked like he checked out for a second, his face becoming dazed and reluctant. He sat on what Kenma inferred was his bed, running both hands through his hair restlessly. His shoulders, his steady and reliable frame, deflated. This Kuroo was foreign to him.

Kenma, still standing at the entrance, squared his shoulders and wiped the perspiration clammy on his hands onto his pants.

"If it's such a bother to have me here, I think I will leave now." It had started out strong, only for the sentence the die in one of his mumbles.

"No, wait!"

He grabbed Kenma's shoulder before he could escape, Kenma shrugging it off harshly, "Why? Why should I wait to hear your excuses?"

"You're right, you're right. I just, I have a hard time looking at you," Kuroo's voice was the one shaking now.

"Oh, so you can't even look at me now? That's pretty conven-"

"I feel guilty! Okay? I look at you and feel horrible!"

Kenma shouted back. "Good!"

It felt like he was seeing everything through a lens, the edges of his vision going a bit blurry; he could only look at Kuroo looking at him with a pathetic look that dyed his vision red.

When Kenma tried to open the door, not remembering the walk there, only hearing the voice yelling _to get out as quickly as possible_  inside his head. Kuroo forced it shut, splaying his back against the only exit in which Kenma could flee. "Please. Please, just give me a chance to make it up."

He gritted his teeth, cringing at the horrible grinding noise. "For what, Kuroo? You can't even say it. What is making you so guilty that you can't even look me directly in the eye?!" Kenma's eyes were glassy by then, swollen with unshed tears. 

Kenma hadn't cried since the night he had come to terms that Kuroo didn't want him anymore, didn't want to put up with his useless childhood best friend when he could be doing so many better things with his life. He had argued with himself when his mind supplied that explanation, filling in the potholes with his own concrete. There was no way that Kuroo of all people would do that to him; Kuroo had known him inside and out, and he wasn't the type to abandon his longest friend. But knowing how out of character the last exchange they had, if you could even call it that, he figured anything was possible.

"I hurt you, I left you all alone when I knew," Kuroo's voice broke, disjointed in color, "I _knew_ you would need me."

He hissed, "Why?" It seemed to be the only question he could ask tonight, instead of more pressing ones on his list:  _did you ever really care about me?_ and  _what did I do to deserve this? Tell me what I did wrong!_

_"I'm selfish. That's why."_

Kenma backed away, rubbing the heel of his hands harshly into his eyes.

It was a simple answer with a complex equation. Selfish? How? If he wanted to change and not be selfish he could start by telling once and for all what was going on.

Kuroo paced now, not even blocking the door. Kenma thought of leaving, but he had long figured out that this was the only chance he had to get answers; possibly the last time he'd truly speak to Kuroo.

"No, you're not," Kenma gulped and looked down when Kuroo turned to him with red eyes. "At least, you weren't."

The bitter laugh that followed alone was heart wrenching.

"So comforting, Kenma. But so like you."

"I wasn't finished." Taking deep breaths, Kenma continued. "You're not the type... to be hot and cold. I know you must have had a reason or something. That doesn't mean I'd forgive you if you told me... but I have to know whether it was my fault." His quiet voiced filled the dead space around, and for a moment, Kenma hesitated, not wanting to make the death permanent. "...because if anyone is selfish, it's me."

The blond had always thought that; selfish for monopolizing his friend's time, selfish for keeping his true feelings to himself, in such a manner that he would have to piece the emotions back together to make a coherent picture.

Kenma's eyes widened when Kuroo looked directly into his eyes, a melancholic, self deprecating expression on his face. He was smiling, but it looked wrong, like it was stretched too thin.

"It wasn't. It was never your fault."

"Then tell me why, I deserve to know!" He might not amount to much, but he at least deserved this. Kenma wanted to learn from his mistakes.

Kuroo looked like he was choking. "I can't."

"You can, and you will." Each syllable was punctuated by his conviction, sounding ripped from his throat. 

"I can't, Kenma." More strangled noises.

Kenma stepped forward, stilling Kuroo until they were face to face. "I need to know, and I will pester you until I figure it out."

"You'll be waiting for a while then, I promised myself I wouldn't ever tell you."

He only regained the function to breathe when the door clicked shut, and he was at the end of the hall.  
________________________

Kenma walked down the halls aimlessly once again, only this time he was trying to find his dorm in the pitch black. His cheeks still felt warm and wet from his confrontation, his body still trembling, and the last dregs of his adrenaline draining.

He gave up before too long, lost. He felt lost in his mind too, recalling every detail of the encounter over and over again until it was warped and twisted. After sending a quick text to Akaashi, his shaking hand pressing the number one until he could hear the other line ringing.

"Kenma?" Sunshine is the only way he could describe that voice. It felt like a balm to his battered emotions.

"Shouyou." The tears were back, once again making his voice quake.

"Kenma, are you okay?!?! You never usually call me! Did something happen?" There was background noises, something he recognized as volleyballs bouncing off hard wood floors. He was still in practice, then, pretty late. Again.

"No. I'm not... I'm not okay."

On the other line was the sound of a distressed bird before it's cut off with a sharp yell in the background and the shout, "Kageyama, I'm talking to Kenma now, so shut up!"

Shouyou, though not too bright on subjects such as anxiety outside of the court, knew what a call from Kenma meant. The last time he had willingly called the ginger was before he went to college, the same night of his devastating revelation.

"What should I do, want me to come visit you?"

Kenma shook his head, then realized he'd have to verbally answer.

"No, Shouyou. Just... talk... tell me how things are going." _Help me forget, if only for a few moments_.

The next half hour he heard all about Shouyou's new kouhai, and once again how much he missed his "Noya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai", then going into a rambling fit of random noises to explain one of their new plays they haven't pulled off quite yet. Kenma felt his brain begin to cope and a temporary numbness took over. 

When he saw Akaashi approach him, he quietly told Shouyou goodnight, the red head making him promise to call tomorrow. As they were walking back, Kenma could feel Akaashi's soft look of sadness. They didn't say a word, the comfortable silence steadying his resolve.

Kenma was going to find out what was wrong with Kuroo. He wasn't certain for who's sake he felt he need to do this, to figure out where it went wrong, though he was sure that they both needed closure. If they made amends, maybe they could both move on. Because, it was obvious they were both stagnant, and stagnant water grew filth. No matter if it would be together or parted, moving on was the only way. He just wanted this _thing, conflict_ , whatever you would call it to be done and over with... before it destroyed him beyond repair.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The next one shot will probably be a little while, due to health problems, so please be patient! Comments and kudos might kick me in gear though, so if you have any thoughts or constructive criticisms please lemme know!
> 
> Edit: I forgot to say that my joint tumblr with my beta is eccentrick-stardust! It's all basically Haikyuu!! and Tokyo Ghoul, so come talk to me if you want! (I'm pretty shy tho).


End file.
